


gone to vinegar (put me down again)

by WindyRein



Series: Dashboard Confessions [14]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark Gets to Have Nice Things, Dark's Broken Everything, Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, Eldritch Abomination Dark, Genderfluid Dark, Not WMW Compliant, Not Wilford Motherloving Warstache Compliant, POV Alternating, POV Dark, POV Darkiplier, POV Wilford Warfstache, Post-WKM AU, Post-Who Killed Markiplier? AU, Self-Hatred, Sort Of, Wilford Remembers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindyRein/pseuds/WindyRein
Summary: Some days, some rare days, Dark uses a cane. Some rarer days Dark even seems to need it.(some days wilford avoids dark like the plague)





	gone to vinegar (put me down again)

**Author's Note:**

> Have another post-WKM outpouring of feelings I've been stuck on for months xD Basically because I'm emptying my WIP plate so I can focus on the longer shit that, in some cases, has been in the works for years.
> 
> This goes wildly AU after WKM and ignores the entirety of WMW because this was basically finished for months before WMW even came out. I've just been busy and holding out hope for my muse returning and letting me write the confrontation between Dark and Wilford but that's not happening, apparently, so have this.
> 
> As for the "genderfluid Dark" tag... Dark is made up of three or four different things, depending how you count and I don't really go into it in this but [this](http://poutingtrolltroll.tumblr.com/post/166503949955/dark-housing-the-entities-that-once-were-a-man) is basically what I was thinking of in the background.
> 
> Title from Dessa's [The Crow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RezzkpiQ70M).

The moment they wake they know it's going to be one of _those_ days. The days where they can't be bothered to keep their shell intact because that means bearing the agony of broken bones and stretched ligaments and displaced joints and _human weakness_. The days where they have to hide everything from everyone when all they want is to float in the emptiness of the void just to make the agony bearable.

The days where all they see in themselves is weakness to take advantage of.

***

Some days, some rare days, Dark uses a cane. Some rarer days Dark even seems to need it.

(some days wilford avoids dark like the plague)

***

Most days Wilford doesn't remember anything before Dark. Most days Wilford wonders why people don't just get up annoyed after he shoots them, like Dark did. Why wouldn't they? It's not like Dark is _that_ special, no matter what he says. Most days Wilford wonders why Dark seems to care so much about him when he has nothing but disdain for everyone around them.

But there are days...

There are days he remembers being shot at, remembers being in charge of men fighting not just for their lives but their country. There are days he remembers what was before Dark.

(he doesn't like it)

(there are days he remembers a man similar to dark in looks and a woman with similar posture but... softer)

***

There's a crick in his neck he's trying to ignore because doing anything about it will just aggravate the already misplaced vertebrae but the tension from trying to keep his head still is spreading everywhere and bringing with it pain and discomfort.

Though, he has to admit, it's been a relatively good day, so maybe he could risk it?

He straightens and stretches slowly, carefully. He can feel the tension lessening and he starts to wonder if cracking his neck will be worth the trip to the void to get all those tiny, finicky pieces back in place.

Yes, he decides when he hears a crash in the distance followed by shouting,  it'll definitely be worth it.

It's probably some of the worst timing in his life.

The moment he goes to move his head, the door to his office slams open and he flinches, just a little, probably too little for anyone to notice, but that doesn't mean the sudden movement and his aborted neck crack don't result in a bone shard _(probably)_ moving in the exact wrong way and pressing against his spinal cord.

He wants to kill Wilford the moment the bolt of pure agony races through his twisted nerves from his neck to his toes leaving molten lava and shattered glass in its wake.

***

He dodges the mug thrown at him with disgusting ease. Usually Dark's throws are stronger and better aimed than that. Then again, he perks up, maybe he actually surprised Dark this time. Oh, ho, ho, wouldn't that be something he'd hold over the edgelord for as long as he remembers!

Except...

He looks at Dark, his thoughts scattering to the ether. There's something familiar about the hunch of those shoulders _(of course there is, it's **dark** )_ and the darker, almost black, grey of his suit and the deep measured breaths and the way he's leaning on his desk and - - -

_-old friend, you need-_

_-ause i'm not weep-_

_-ese-ve bet-_

_-good man, that one-_

_-called a murde-_

_-hence the gun-_

_-i didn- -kill- -is madness!-_

_-thought you were dead- -ourse, you're not- -i wouldn't have- -kill anybody- -all a joke- -damien, where are you- -celine?-_

"Damien?"

A sharp breath in, ringing in his ears that forces him to his knees with the pain feeling like his brain is about to explode, a sound like tearing mountains apart, a blast of colder than cold

and he's alone in the office.

***

He wasn't supposed to remember. They'd failed. _Again_ , they snarl at the whimpering ball of weakness at the back of their being that _still_ can't handle the void.

The worst part is they can only blame themselves. If they hadn't given into weakness, if they hadn't wanted comfort, if they had paid attention, if, if, _if_.

They tear apart the creature that swims into their reach. It doesn't help.

He wasn't supposed to _remember_. That's what they'd wanted, wasn't it? The weaklings that'd needed its power to get their revenge. And they hadn't even taken it when it was offered on a silver platter.

They savage anything they reach and it tries to get rid of the remnants of the pieces that it was born from and he wants to reach back to the reality he comes from and make sure his friend is alright and she needs to protect her lover from the man that already broke him once and they're a mess but what else is new?

***

Wilford doesn't know how he gets onto his bed.

_(or is it william?)_

How had he - -

It wasn't his f - -

Where's - -

None of this is right.

How could Damien _(dark. or was it damien? did he remember that right?)_ not tell him? And what of Celine? What happened to his sweetheart? And what about the one he'd shot?

But it hadn't been his fault, had it? No, of course not, Damien was alive if different, so that meant Celine had to be somewhere as well. But.

He stops, stills, narrows his eyes.

If his friends, his _family_ , live, then the man responsible for all of their pain must live as well, right?

***

They calm down, as much as they ever do, after a while _(an eternity)_ and just let their...  everything out for a while. The material reality they live in most of the time is such a restriction on their form.

After all, there's no way for humans to put form into _despairangervengeance_ when they can barely put it into words without circling it with metaphors, no way for the Earth to grow _nowthenalwaysnever_ when the planet was on such a linear path.

They float and relax for once. After all, their form doesn't have such puny things as _bones_.

***

He stares into nothing trying to order these suddenly remembered memories and thinks at the same time. Dark ( _damien_ ) must know something. He was born in the house, Wilford thinks.

After the fall and the shot and hours upon hours with nothing but his thoughts for company.

Finally, he decides to return to Dark's office and wait for him there.

***

_(why is he here? why didn't he run? runrunrun far away from pain and madness and grief and memory. there's that look in his eyes. the one they'd always called his military look. why?  why couldn't he leave them alone? why couldn't he pretend nothing happened?)_

***

Dark looks, just for a fraction of a moment, like he wants to leave the same way he came. Wilford knows his friend well enough to know he won't if for no other reason than they're in Dark's office and Dark running _(again)_ would be showing weakness and he's far too prideful for that. Wil might get kicked out but that's a reaction he's already familiar with.

Wilford doesn't move a muscle. Just stays still his elbows on his knees, his body relaxed and ready to move if need be. It's something he learned a long time ago staring down rule-breaking subordinates.

***

He lays down tension filling his body. _(they're not nervous, no matter what william says)_

A soft, calm. "I can still put you under if you want."

(he _they_ actually think about it _(damien always hated pain)_ but no, the void, _the other_ , would just burn through it seeing it as a threat, _an attack_ )

They snarl, "We're fine."

The sound of shifting fabric, "If that's what you want." A pause and then, "I'll disinfect the incision site now and then- -" The voice continues and they're paying attention but there are other things they need to focus on Williamnumbingnervesintactshellleashingthe _other **Will**_.

(there's something soothing about the doctor's confident recital of every step, every sensation corresponding with an explanation and that soothes their nerves, and _yes, **william**_ , they're nervous, deal with it)

(the metal, part reality part will and the doctor's manipulations upon reality, doesn't feel unnatural or like much of anything really. they have to admit the others did a good job.)

"I am," he pauses, considering, his words from too many voices to fit one mouth, "grateful. But," he has to add if for nothing else than his pride, "this doesn't mean I won't rip you limb from limb if you do something stupid."

The doctor huffs and rolls his eyes and William just grins and Dark wonders when he lost his intimidation factor.

**Author's Note:**

> Missed tags are appreciated and reviews are loved. :)
> 
> Yeeaaah... I believe I said something about not managing a canon-level Dark in [i've been [hunting] for you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845145) but hey, at least my Wilford's gotten better, I think :D
> 
> (as for where you can see if i actually manage progress on those longer things i mentioned, [my tumblr's](http://poutingtrolltroll.tumblr.com/) the place to be for that wailing to hit your metaphorical ears)


End file.
